


Catalysts

by evilmouse



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Jedi Academy Trilogy - Kevin J. Anderson
Genre: Apologies, Awkward Boners, Awkward Conversations, Bad Decisions, Christmas Fluff, Cold Weather, Embarrassment, F/M, Fluff, Good Intentions, Holiday Fic Exchange, Hoth, Huddling For Warmth, Life Day (Star Wars), Lightsabers, Post-Star Wars: Return of the Jedi, Sharing Body Heat, Sharing a Bed, Tropes, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Wampas, Wookiee Traditions, Yavin IV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:47:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21953902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilmouse/pseuds/evilmouse
Summary: "So why’d you come?” Luke asked, genuinely curious.With a grunt, Mara stood up.  “I already told you.  If Jedi Master Luke Skywalker dies trying to make friends with a wampa, the Republic will never recover.”  She stretched, pulling her elbows behind her as she looked down at him.  “From the humiliation.”“Thank you for taking on such responsibility, Mara,” Luke grinned, getting to his feet.  “I really am glad to have you along.”
Relationships: Mara Jade/Luke Skywalker
Comments: 49
Kudos: 101
Collections: 2019 Star Wars Secret Santa





	1. Tradition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KlivianJade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KlivianJade/gifts).



> This fic was written for the Secret Santa 2019 fic exchange. My giftee requested three lines of dialogue as prompts, of which I've been able to incorporate two:
> 
> _Looks like we're going to be stuck here for a while._
> 
> _I don’t think that’s how that works._
> 
> Huge thanks to [ JediMordsith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JediMordsith/pseuds/JediMordsith) for the beta!
> 
> Happy holidays everyone! I hope you like the story <3

Luke tried not to scowl at Mara. He hadn’t asked for her opinion, after all, and she could get under his skin sometimes. Right now was one of those times.

“You’re not a Wookiee,” she pointed out.

Stepping away from the shuttle, arms outstretched, Luke scanned his own body with mock surprise. “Why…you’re right Mara! Thank you!” The sarcastic tone didn’t quite match up to his twin’s, but he’d been around Han long enough to pull it off.

Rolling emerald eyes, Mara crossed her arms and shook her head. She clearly thought he was an idiot, and Luke didn’t care. But the last thing he needed when he was set on doing something this...strange...was start to doubt the wisdom of the thing.

“That creature is probably long dead, Skywalker.”

Luke said nothing, using the Force to load another crate into the Lambda’s cargo bay.

“It’s been almost ten years, hasn’t it?”

A sigh was his only answer. Luke walked up the ramp, strapping the crate into place with bright orange cargo webbing. To his surprise, Mara followed. He called upon the Force for calm. There had to be a reason she was doing this. It couldn’t just be to make fun of him or get a rise… Mara liked to give him a hard time, but this was going on too long to be just fun for her.

Luke turned around and made himself smile. It wasn’t hard, actually. He liked Mara. Always had. He was glad she stopped by the Academy to train when she had time in her schedule. But when she tried his patience, like today, it was good to take a moment to remind himself of that fact.

“Mara, why don’t you tell me what this is about?”

She smirked. “You mean, besides the Jedi Master losing his mind?”

“Yeah, besides that.”

He held her gaze, could sense when her levity slid towards discomfort, and then realized, with the certainty of the Force, what she wanted. Well, he considered, thoughts colliding and coalescing in a split second. It wouldn’t be bad to have company, as long as she didn’t question his mission the entire time.

“You wanna come?” 

Her shields faltered a moment, confirming that was _exactly_ what she wanted. Why, he wasn’t sure, but Luke hid his surprise well. Her visit to the Academy had been to continue her training, and now he was leaving. Maybe Mara didn’t have holiday plans. After all, while Life Day had transcended its Kashyyyk origins, most people thought of it as nothing more than a galactic celebration, a New Republic excuse to stay home from work. It could be she was just bored. Or perhaps she wanted to be there when he was proven wrong and his scheme fell apart. 

But she definitely wanted to come.

Shrugging, Mara looked around the inside of the shuttle as if trying to decide on its adequacy as transport. Finally her eyes returned to Luke. “Someone needs to make sure that you don’t almost get killed again, I suppose.” She smiled, but the look was softer than before. “Unless Solo is once again riding to your rescue?”

Luke laughed, thankful he’d been able to read her correctly and feeling a warmth spread up his spine at the prospect of spending Life Day alone on Hoth with Mara Jade. “Han has sworn off tauntauns.” Luke grinned. “As have I.” He pointed to a tarp-covered rectangular mass at the far side of the ship. “Snow speeder. With a tow cart.” 

“This is a fool’s errand, you know, Skywalker.”

Luke punched her arm lightly as he headed back down the ramp to move another crate into the hold. 

“And what do you call the person who follows the fool, then?”

He smiled at the memory of Obi Wan’s adage as much as the sound of Mara cursing under her breath behind him. Luke unlatched the final pallet for transport. The warmth on his skin deepened. This was going to be even more of an adventure than he’d thought.

~~

The trip from Yavin IV to Hoth wouldn’t take very long. The Hydian Way connected the two sides of the Outer Rim quite expeditiously. Before leaving, Luke was almost disappointed that he wouldn’t have more time on the ship with Mara. That wish quickly vanished, however. She wasn’t exactly difficult as a travel companion, but she wasn’t exactly sociable either. Once they entered hyperspace, Mara kept mostly to herself—leaving Luke the cockpit and exercising or meditating in the cargo area.

Near the end of the second day, he wandered back to find her practicing some of the more challenging stretches he’d taught her. Her utility belt and lightsaber were carefully set atop a crate. Mara’s flexibility was impressive, and Luke observed in silence. She balanced on her palms, one calf bent behind her neck, the other leg hovering parallel to the floor.

Her eyes were closed, but Luke wasn’t hiding his presence.

“Can I help you?” she asked, inexorably unwinding the calf to mirror the other leg, eyes still shut.

With a grin, Luke threw Mara’s lightsaber with the Force in her direction. Not losing a beat, she was already on her feet, igniting it.

“Sparring.”

It wasn’t a question. Luke’s green blade came alive as he moved into a defensive posture.

“Watch the crates, though.”

Mara slashed low in response, and Luke parried, impressed at the power she was displaying. His forearm tensed as the plasma blades crackled and sparked in collision.

They dueled, circling the small space. The cargo served as clunky obstacles, turning the shuttle into a cramped training ground. Executing a neat backflip up onto a particularly high stack of supplies, Mara cocked her head, teasing.

“Had enough?”

Luke laughed, spinning twice to gracefully land on a lower tower opposite. “I’m just getting warmed up.”

Mara rolled her eyes. “Showoff.”

“You started it,” he pointed out with goodnatured self-righteousness, lunging to close the distance.

His opponent blocked easily, then took advantage of the high ground to anticipate and strike. Luke checked to make sure his shields were tight; he was proud of Mara’s progress. Then, ashamed at the denial of feelings, Luke lowered them, letting his positive emotion flood through the room. After all, he had helped teach her. Why shouldn’t he be proud? Why shouldn’t she know it?

The response was not what he’d expected: Mara tripped on her next feint, blade flying in the air. Luke rapidly drew the hilt to his free hand, steadying her with the Force before she could fall to the deck.

Landing in a crouch, Mara glared at him. “Couldn’t win fair and square, Skywalker?”

Taken aback by the assumption, Luke closed down his blade and tossed hers back. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

Shaking her head, Mara attached the lightsaber to her belt with a sigh. Her long red hair, disheveled from the exercise, obscured her face. Apparently she had enough practice for the moment.

“Attacking me with your …”

Luke raised his eyebrows, clipping his own hilt in place. He crossed his arms expectantly, waiting for her to finish.

Mara trailed off. She twisted her hair into a loose knot before facing him, hands on hips, eyes stormy. “Whatever. It’s too tight in here to spar anyway.” She waved a hand to indicate the crates. “We’re lucky we didn’t destroy your precious pet food.”

But Luke wasn’t going to let her off so easy. “You’ve been practicing. You’re really good Mara! Why shouldn’t I share that with you?”

She stared past him, looking at something over his shoulder, apparently unable to formulate an answer. While he wasn’t embarrassed at his pride in her abilities, she seemed to be. Luke felt bad for pushing her; he should have known better. Time to change the subject.

“We’ll be there tomorrow morning,” he said. “Any thoughts about best ways to go about this?”

The sound from her throat was somewhere between incredulous and amused—half laugh, half derision. “Should have known you didn’t have a plan.”

“Hey, I have a plan!” Luke insisted, walking aft to the small kitchenette and pulling two water bulbs from a cabinet.

Mara sat cross-legged in the middle of the shuttle floor, catching the bulb he threw one-handed as Luke settled in a mirror position across from her.

“Do tell,” she said drily, chugging the bulb empty in seconds. Raising an eyebrow, Luke handed her the one he’d taken for himself and got up to retrieve another.

“Well, I was patrolling the perimeter of the base when my tauntaun was attacked,” he started, breaking open the water and drinking deeply. “Han says it wasn’t really that far outside where he found me in the snow. But…” Luke looked down at the floor. He remembered the bitter cold as much as the fear. “...I don’t know how far it dragged me.” He finished the water and leaned back against a crate. “Or how far I walked from its cave before I collapsed. I’m trusting in the Force to guide me, I suppose.” He smiled at her. “Guide us.”

“Sounds imprecise,” Mara commented, meeting his eyes. “Tell me again why you want to do this?”

Luke laughed. “I thought Han already tattled?”

A small lift of her lips was the only answer, and Luke shifted, lying back on the deck, looking up at the shuttle's grey vaulting. Probably not a bad idea to articulate the idea once more, since she had signed up to accompany.

“Chewbacca was talking about Life Day. You know what that is, right?”

“Every three years, a bunch of Wookiees get together and party.”

With a smile, Luke nodded at the ceiling. "Yeah, but not just Wookiees anymore. Celebrating life, giving thanks. And some people believe part of the tradition is atonement. Forgiveness.”

“Luke.”

She almost never used his first name. Luke scrambled to a sitting position, meeting the blazing eyes that regarded him like a strange specimen. When Mara spoke, it was neutral, matter-of-fact.

“It killed your mount. It tried to eat you. You have nothing to atone for.” Luke opened his mouth to speak but Mara held up a finger to shush him. “And—as has already been observed—you are _not_ a Wookiee, however this tradition has evolved. If you want token forgiveness for doing what was necessary to save your own skin, give some credits to an anti-poaching fund. Volunteer at a shelter or something. This…” she spread her hands to indicate the cargo, “...this is a waste of time and resources.”

“So why’d you come?” Luke asked, genuinely curious.

With a grunt, Mara stood up. “I already told you. If Jedi Master Luke Skywalker dies trying to make friends with a wampa, the Republic will never recover.” She stretched, pulling her elbows behind her as she looked down at him. “From the humiliation.”

“Thank you for taking on such responsibility, Mara,” Luke grinned, getting to his feet. “I really am glad to have you along.”

“Yeah yeah.” Her faint grumble reached his ears as he walked back to the cockpit.

Taking his seat and checking the nav, Luke knew she was right. But he liked the idea of trying to help. Reports of trade in wampa pelts had only increased in recent years, and Leia’s sources had said some former bounty hunters were running hunting expeditions to Hoth for big game trophy clients. Wampas were becoming endangered. Despite their fierce reputation—and his personal experience—they _usually_ only bothered people who bothered them. A shudder travelled up his spine as he remembered _feeling_ as much as _fearing_ the hunger of the wampa that had hung him like a slab of meat in its cave. The beast had been starving.

Luke accepted that the wampa whose arm he’d amputated could be dead by now. He could still leave a Life Day feast for the animals as a gesture, try to use the Force to communicate some goodwill.

In recent years, he’d come a long way towards communicating with other creatures. At the academy, that meant primarily woolamanders and runyips, and an occasional mawgax. Nothing complicated, but successfully conveying intent and calm was critical to establishing an animal bond. Luke didn’t know how advanced wampa thought was, but if he could make a runyip come when he called, he hoped he could at least present a non-threatening, if not friendly, front to the hulking beasts. Wampa were not fully sentient, but Luke thought there was a good chance he could make his wishes understood. 

_My apology._

He didn’t expect Mara to understand. Han and Leia didn’t either. But he’d been young and inexperienced, and hadn’t needed to injure as grievously as he had. On some level, Luke didn’t even understand it himself. He had killed thousands of sentients, too many in face-to-face combat. Humans, aliens, beings from all over the galaxy. It wasn’t something he liked to think about, but it was the truth; Luke wouldn’t run from the facts, however upsetting. 

But something felt different about the wampa attack. The memory of his violent reflex had haunted him. It made no sense, Luke knew that much, but he also knew the first thing that sprang to mind when Chewie mentioned this Life Day tradition had been the furry monstrosity that had wanted to eat him. It was only a feeling, but Luke had gotten used to trusting his feelings.

With a final check at the console, Luke closed his eyes. He could meditate for a while before shipboard night.

~~

A gentle hand on his shoulder woke him. “Sleep in the back, Skywalker. You’re snoring.”

Flustered, Luke rubbed his eyes, standing and stretching. “Just a couple more hours?”

“I’ll wake you.”

“Thanks.”

He walked back to the passenger space, surprised to see that Mara had laid out his sleeping bag on some cargo pads. It looked all the more cozy because it was so unexpected. Stripping, Luke wasted no time in rolling up in the puffy material. It felt warm and smelled nice, like Mara’s perfume or shampoo or whatever that faint scent that followed her was... Maybe she’d doused it, he thought, to get rid of whatever battle-steeped Rebel pilot smell had lingered within. The idea made him smile as he drifted back into dreams.


	2. Myth

Five hours later, they were exploring the frozen tundra that had never left his memory. The howling winds and icy landscape looked as inhospitable as always, but this time, the experience was decidedly different. 

For one thing, Mara’s arms were wrapped loosely around his waist as they skimmed the surface on the snow speeder. Their packs were strapped securely to the rear rack, already a sheen of frost coating every surface. Luke had invested in heating packs, which he and Mara had applied liberally to stay warm inside their snowsuits. He didn’t feel cold at all for the moment, that pleasant warmth that he’d first registered back on Yavin IV still heating his insides.

Luke _was_ grateful for Mara’s company and unexpected acceptance of his plan. She hadn’t complained once about his proposed methodology: sweeping the outer perimeter, searching for signs of wampas with the trailer attached. Better not to brave the elements twice if they could accomplish the mission in one survey. 

Once they had located the likely colony, it was just a question of delivering the rations and returning to the ship. 

Luke also had outfitted the Lambda shuttle with a beckon call—expensive but worth it. If the speeder died in the middle of an ice floe, they wouldn’t have to hike back to the landing zone. He hoped he’d thought of everything, but knew that was unlikely.

Reaching out with the Force, Luke tried to send calming energy in search of any semi-sentient life. He sensed a colony of Skels and steered clear, wondering if they had taken over the abandoned Echo Base. 

Mara tapped his shoulder. Luke turned his head to the left, reading a question in her eyes. Maybe she could sense the lifeforms but not the species.

“Skel,” he hollered to be heard over the wailing wind. “We’ll go around.”

She nodded, the snow goggles protecting her penetrating eyes already decorated with ice crystals around the edges. Luke had remembered the _idea_ of the cold of Hoth, but no memory could replicate the bone-chilling reality that was its natural ecosystem.

A few moments later, the alien presences receded and Luke relaxed. Pulling up over a mountainous snowdrift, he idled the speeder and reached for the macrobinoculars. Scanning the horizon, he checked elevation. They were about two klicks from Echo Base. The Lanteel glacial valley spread out below. There was something familiar about this landscape…

The topographical readings on his scopes indicated a complex network of caves to the northwest. Luke had no idea how deep the cavern where he had been taken went, but it made sense that if there were that many caves, something was living in them. He lowered the macrobinoculars, turning around to explain to Mara.

“Over there,” he pointed. 

The wind had picked up and Mara shook her head, indicating she couldn’t hear, but she gestured in the same direction with a gloved finger.

“Yeah,” Luke nodded. He reached behind, patted the lightsaber hilt dangling from her utility belt, hoping the message was clear. They came in peace, but needed to be prepared.

Mara’s hand left his waist and did the same with his weapon. Luke tried not to react, but the intimacy of the touch of her padded fingers grazing his thigh sent a tingle along his spine. Luke gave himself a pass. It had been a long time, and Mara was objectively pretty. Maybe Leia was right about him needing to get out more.

Releasing the clutch, he slowly accelerated down the drift. The closer they drove to the cave complex, the more lifeforms Luke could sense within. But as if the planet itself were attempting to thwart him during the approach, the sky darkened, the wind whipped with even more freezing energy, and snow began to fall in sheets—a blizzard or, if they were really unlucky, an ice storm.

Cursing, Luke scanned for the cave entrance. At least they could get out of the elements and figure out how best to proceed. His eyes were useless, even with the goggles, as the whirling snow became a wall of white. He reached out with the Force and continued driving the speeder. His trust was never misplaced, and soon the vehicle reached what appeared to be a curtain of ice—a cleverly hidden opening behind it.

Luke idled the speeder again, dismounting with reluctance. Mara’s arms had felt a little too nice around him, but he pushed that thought away. As she jumped gracefully to the snow, boots barely denting the frost-glazed ground, he checked his shields, just in case. Wiping his wrist across his goggles to clear them of the ice already forming, he slowly pulled the bike and its trailer around the frozen wall blocking the entrance. Once inside, Luke turned off the engine and checked his scopes, using the Force to enhance his awareness.

Wampas. He shivered involuntarily. His senses recognized the species’ presence, although he couldn’t have explained how. Putting his goggles high on his head, he turned to Mara, who had already taken hers off and was looking at him with a quizzical twist of her lips.

“Something wrong, Skywalker?”

“No,” he said slowly. “We’re in the right place.”

“Right place to get eaten,” she replied cheerily, and nodded towards the palettes of food on the speeder tow. “Should we carry some of that as a peace offering?”

Luke considered. The food was heavy, but if he couldn’t communicate with the Force, it would be their best option for explaining the purpose of this “visit.” It would weigh them down though… Finally, he shook his head.

“No. If they don’t understand me, then it won’t matter if we have food or not.” He tried to smile, but the cold made his facial muscles feel stiff and unnatural. “We’ll just be augmenting the meal.”

“That supposed to make me feel better?” Mara sighed, looking up at the shiny stalactites lining the ceiling.

Luke gave her a toothier smile, grabbing one survival pack from the back of the speeder and tossing her the other. His stretched lips cracked from the cold as he started down the passageway.

“Familiar?” she asked, pulling her scarf a little tighter around her mouth. The sound was muffled, but Luke understood. They could hear the blizzard raging, but at least the way the entrance was carved provided protection against snow and wind. The sound though, came through loud and clear. The gusts shrieked, and cracking thuds indicated avalanches in the distance.

“Yes.”

It was. It didn’t look the same as it did in his nightmares; Luke could _feel_ more than see the memory of his ordeal. The imprint of it seemed imbued in the ice itself.

He moved around a sharp rock formation, searching with the Force. Wherever the wampas were, and they were definitely near, they were not attacking. Not yet.

A few minutes later the passageway veered steeply downwards and to the left. The light faded and Luke resisted reaching for a glowrod. He was afraid it would look too similar to a lightsaber, and perhaps give bad memories to “his” wampa or any others that had encountered humans. Mara, however, had no such concerns, and a dim red glow suddenly illuminated the ice walls and hard floor. Biting his lip, Luke said nothing, hoping he was wrong about the possible associations.

Almost tripping against something lodged in the snow-dusted ground, he braced himself against the wall as Mara’s Force presence wrapped a steady support around him.

“Thanks,” he said, bending down to see what had made him stumble.

A skull. Luke pulled out his own glowrod, taking a closer look. Human. Some tissue dried on the jaw hinge, so not too old. A closer examination showed more bones, deeper under the snow. Several of the bigger ones looked gnawed. Luke didn’t need to see more.

Mara was quiet, but when he straightened, she cleared her throat. “Look at this.”

He turned to see her holding an icetromper skin. It looked relatively fresh as well, professionally skinned. Not the product of a wampa kill.

“Trophy pelt.” Luke gestured to the decomposing bones at his feet. “I guess that means big game hunters.” He felt a little sick. “Maybe even came to the wampa den on purpose.”

“Probably.” Mara tossed the furry pelt to the side with a grimace. “Dangerous hobby.”

Luke agreed, and continued down the ice-smoothed corridor. They passed a few skeletons, not all human, many tauntaun carcasses, and a few more dead icetrompers that were clearly wampa food—not hunters’ kills. It started to smell musty, and the air grew warmer.

Holding up a hand as they rounded a sharp corner, Luke sucked in a breath. A wampa, a young one, was sitting in the center of a small chamber, back to them. Mara slipped as she tried to halt, and with a muffled thud and a curse braced herself against Luke’s back to keep from falling.

The animal spun around with a roar at the sound. Luke held up empty hands by his ears. Time to find out if wampas had anything in common with Yavin’s fauna.

Using the Force, Luke communicated with emotion, not words. Safety, calm, non-aggression, all delivered with a deliberate, even wave of energy.

The wampa quieted and didn’t move.

“Can it understand you?” Mara whispered.

“I think so,” Luke answered in the same tone.

He tried to receive its response, at first discouraged at his failure to read anything at all from the mute beast just a few meters away. Realizing tension was clouding his mind, Luke lowered his hands and opened himself further to the Force.

A rush of confusion struck with the power of an snowslide, and it was Luke’s turn to brace himself from falling.

Well, confusion went both ways. Luke tried to respond to the animal’s turmoil with serenity, but what came instead were distressing images, his own memories associated with this species. Before he could stop or filter it, the wampa howled in rage. _Great way to complicate things_ , he mentally chastised.

“What did you _tell_ it?!” Mara growled angrily. Her breath was warm on his cheek. Luke hadn’t realized she was so close.

“I think it saw my memories from before. I couldn’t stop them from coming.”

“Can you take it back?” she asked furiously. “Explain it was a mistake or something?”

“I don’t think that’s how that works,” Luke winced, trying to concentrate. The wampa took another step towards them and Luke summoned images of happiness, memories of Life Day celebrations with Chewbacca’s family, anything he could think of that was the opposite of him attacking a fellow wampa.

Once again the creature stopped, tilting its head. Luke exhaled. Before he could finish the breath, a foreign feeling, somewhere between understanding and recognition, dull and muddy, coated his brain. It had to be coming from the wampa.

With a low trumpeting noise, the animal turned its back on them and walked down the passageway deeper into the tunnels. Luke let out a sigh of relief.

“We follow?”

“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “But the wampa that I injured...I think it’s still here, still alive.”

“Great,” Mara said with no enthusiasm.

A thumping noise shook stalactites from the roof. Three more animals were heading in their direction.

“Get ready to run,” Luke said calmly.

“Or fight?” Mara asked, a tinge of hope in the question.

He spared a quick glance at her, thankful once more she had come along.

“Or fight,” he agreed. “But I’d rather—”

Whatever he’d been about to posit was cut off as the enormous, furry monsters crowded through the entrance. Luke held his ground, feeling Mara tense behind him.

Repeating his earlier message, Luke felt the Force flow more smoothly, a soothing river of goodwill. The wampas shifted uneasily, then the middle one stepped forward.

The air left his lungs in a thick cloud. It only had one arm.

“Luke…” Mara’s voice was warning. Luke felt it too. Hostility, a lot of it. No matter what warm fuzzies the Jedi was trying to convey, this creature didn’t trust him. Or like him. With good reason.

“I know,” he replied, closing his eyes. He couldn’t be distracted. This was the moment he’d wanted, the opportunity he’d been seeking. 

A flash of images interrupted his mental tranquility. Compacted and fierce, they winded him, one nested in the other, slamming into his understanding in all their layers. Each revelation was simultaneous. This was different than the woolamanders… different than any animal he had ever tried to communicate with. The wampas’ psyches were unbridled and disorganized. Battling to make sense of it, Luke reached to the Force for aid, sheets of emotion unfolding, each disrupting and coloring the one before it.

There was emotional misery, the memory of physical pain, worse than anything he’d ever felt. 

Luke flinched. She—the wampa was female—had lost her mate. With the realization came clarity, more complex comprehension of her suffering. When Echo Base was built, the Rebels had sealed the tunnels wampas had burrowed over centuries, blocking off feeding grounds. Starvation—a vicious hollowness that consumed all else—and despair overtook her pack. Hunger turned the wampa against one another.

The weak were hunted during the famine. The young, too trusting or small to defend themselves, were cannibalized or used as bait for larger prey. Then sentients, killing for sport, lured the starving tribe with food, and slaughtered them for their heads.

The wampa took a heavy step forward.

She blamed Luke. 

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Mara said, and Luke had to agree. He couldn’t make up for one mother’s agony with a trailer full of food, that much was clear.

Instead of backing up, he waved a hand behind him to indicate to Mara that should start a retreat.

“No way,” she said softly. “You’ll need me when they decide they’d rather eat you than talk to you.”

Luke managed a small smile. “When,” she’d said, not “if.” 

“Trust me.”

“I don’t trust _them,_ ” Mara replied. He sensed her movement before she actually reached for her lightsaber.

“Mara, don’t!”

Thankfully she hadn’t ignited it, but the instant the hilt became visible, the one-armed wampa roared, charging straight at Luke.

Luke used the Force to stop the beast in its tracks, regretting the entire situation. He hadn’t expected everything to go perfectly. But he had hoped to at least deliver the food before everything went to hell.

Cursing, Mara took a step to stand next to him. “So that was my fault, Skywalker, I admit. What now?”

Luke sighed. He really hadn’t wanted to do this the hard way, but there was no longer a chance of appearing non-threatening. “We gently put those two,” he indicated the two wampa blocking the passage, frozen by the Force, “down for a nap…”

As he spoke, the two lumbering creatures slid gently to the floor. The one-armed female stared wide-eyed and stopped trying to attack the humans from her helpless position.

“And I hold her here…” Luke nodded at the wampa, “while you go to the entryway, unload the food, and get the speeder ready to leave.”

Mara turned and raced away. Luke breathed evenly, trying to concentrate on reassuring the animal trapped by his power. He wished a mind trick would work—something simple, clear—although it was hit-or-miss with creatures that weren't fully sentient. He tried, feeling stupid for the attempt.

“I’m not here to harm you,” Luke said quietly, putting the strength of the Force into his words.

But they lacked conviction. He thought of Master Yoda. It had been a long time since he “tried” something instead of just doing it. Slightly amused, mostly ashamed, Luke cleared his throat and narrowed his focus.

“I’m sorry.”

The wampa jerked uneasily as Luke loosened his hold.

“You don’t want to hurt me,” he said confidently. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

The creature was silent as Luke relaxed the Force hold surrounding it. His hand rested near his weapon, but Luke no longer felt fear or anger emanating from the wampa. It was agitated, but for the moment it seemed to agree that Luke was not a threat.

“I’m leaving now…” he informed it, the words heavy. “You can walk to the surface after,” he ordered, “and there will be food there.” Luke backed up carefully, seeing if the animal understood.

It was silent, and Luke released the last vestiges of power binding the wampa in place. A mistake. It lunged, and Luke faltered. An all-too familiar rush of terror, long forgotten but easily revived in the presence of this beast, clouded his thoughts. Luke felt the Force just out of reach, and fumbled for his lightsaber as he ran as fast as he could for the surface.

The howl from the creature behind echoed off the ice-slicked walls, and snow started to dust down as the entire cave seemed to shake with its fury.

Luke slipped as he rounded the bend, a stalactite crashing from the ceiling right next to his hand. Putting on a burst of speed, he almost slammed into a wall. The wampa wasn’t giving up, its single-minded pursuit marked by tremors in the earth as well as the Force. Another blood-curdling roar signaled its proximity, and Luke felt panic like a poisonous gas in his lungs.

Struggling for calm, he took too long to regain his equilibrium. The wampa was too close. Stumbling into the entrance cavern, Luke registered with relief that Mara had dispensed with the idea of unloading the food and simply unhitched the trailer from the speeder. Smart. But where was she?

More snow cracked and fell in chunks from the ceiling as the wampa lumbered into the space. 

“Skywalker!!!”

Luke registered her yell more with the Force than his ears, rushing out into the blizzard-like conditions. She was already on the speeder. Luke imagined he could feel her glare behind the protection of her goggles, but could barely see, his still affixed atop his head.

Leaping onto the seat behind her, Luke gasped as a huge claw sliced neatly through the pack at his back. 

“Go, go!” he yelled, but they already were off. Twisting behind to look, Luke saw the remnants of his survival pack quickly swallowed up by the opaque deluge of snow cascading from the skies. The wampa became almost immediately invisible, its fur the perfect camouflage.

It hadn’t gone as he’d envisioned. But they were alive, the wampa was alive, and there was a strange satisfaction in knowing at the least the peace offering had been delivered to its destination; the food would be welcome.

The wind shrieked in his ears as Luke tried to put the goggles back on his chapped face, but they had frozen to his helmet. His eyes hurt, the cold burning them in their sockets. He glanced over Mara’s shoulder at the speeder scopes. They were frosted over. Sleet hit his eyes and Luke buried his head in Mara’s back, wondering where she was going. It seemed she was driving east out of the valley, towards the Cirque Glacier, instead of back to the ship. He tapped her shoulder, but she ignored him completely, driving straight towards the source of those hostile Skel lifeforces he’d detected earlier.

“Mara!” Luke yelled to be heard. “The beckon call?”

Her helmeted head shook slightly as the speeder coughed and stuttered. Of course. It had been in his pack. The seat jerked beneath him, the bike in its death throes. 

“Bantha shit,” Luke muttered, realizing what was going on. The cold apparently had caught up to the mechanics on the speeder. It was certified for well below freezing, but wasn’t designed for nighttime temperatures on Hoth. Not much was. And with the sun setting, it had decided that its work for the day was over. 

She wasn’t going to let him live this down, of course. Luke was already prepared for the mockery that was certain to arrive within seconds of them stopping. He didn’t care, not really, he told himself. As far as he was concerned, the mission had been accomplished.

They made it within half a klick to the base when, with a final shudder, the bike whined and stopped. 

Mara jumped off the seat, moving with more grace than Luke would have thought possible in her snowsuit and the cold. He managed, with a little help from the Force, to rip his goggles from his helmet. They were freezing against his skin, though, so he yanked his muffler up higher against the wind and dismounted.

The screaming wind and the furious snow made it necessary to get up close and personal to communicate. Mara’s nose almost touched his as she yelled through her scarf to be heard.

“We can walk it.”

Luke shook his head. “Skels. We’d have to kill them all.”

Wincing, Mara pointed to the useless speeder. “We’re gonna die here if we don’t get inside. Not much of an alternative.”

Her breath was hot against his lips, and Luke felt the heat travel through his entire body. He knew better than anyone how unforgiving Hoth was, and here he was again, trying not to freeze to death. Only this time his own folly had put Mara in danger as well.

Summoning composure, Luke looked into Mara’s eyes. They weren’t panicked—steady and slightly narrowed against the cold, but clear. She _did_ trust him, despite what had happened earlier. And she still hadn’t blamed him for what was inarguably his fault, which was a bonus.

He didn’t have his pack. The beckon call, his heatsheet, macrobinoculars, emergency rations, all gone. But he used to be posted here. He knew the terrain around the base. Taking a deep breath of the icy air, Luke reached out with the Force.

The North Ridge lay west. They were sandwiched between outposts and sentry stations, most of which had been destroyed in the Battle of Hoth. But Echo Station 3-T-8, or what was left of it, should be nearby. The trenches at least had been dug deep. If there was enough debris, they could make a shelter. Perhaps even find something that would help them repair the speeder.

“C’mon,” Luke said. Mara didn’t move. He grabbed her hand, starting to walk. _She_ at least was still wearing her survival pack. Mara let him pull her, then trudged after him, the wind whipping tendrils of red hair around her collar.

“Luke!”

He stopped at the shout, spinning to face her again. Her glove was still in his, her uncertainty something he felt in the Force.

“Outpost?”

Luke nodded, and Mara adjusted her pack one-handed as they set off again.

Thankfully the station was closer than he’d anticipated. They had only waded through the shin-high snow for about 400 meters when they came upon the charred carcass of a destroyed ion cannon. Luke let go of Mara’s hand and they climbed over it. A few minutes later they reached the start of the trenches. A chill that had nothing to do with the cold travelled along Luke’s flesh as he dropped into the ditch, watching Mara alight behind him. So many friends had died here.

Mara passed him her glowrod as they started down the alley carved into the ice.


	3. Belief

They hadn’t gone far when a convenient piece of weaponry blocked the path. One of the oblong blast cannon turrets had been wedged across the middle of the trench, with only a hole where the barrel and firing assembly should have been. The inside of the turret was mostly hollow, and, Luke remembered, somewhat insulated. While the blasts were usually remotely triggered, the turrets had ample space in case of malfunctions and for maintenance. Luke shoved the glowrod into his belt and Force leapt through the square opening, landing in a crouch up above.

His first thought was how quiet it was inside the rounded walls. Immediately, the screech of the wind was muted, like a distant dream. Luke quickly scanned the gutted interior with the glowrod and the Force, finding nothing alarming or, unfortunately, useful. But the cavity was long, padded, and kept out the wind and snow. Plus, elevated as it was, it would be difficult for anything to launch a surprise attack. 

Shoving some stray electronics into the far corner of the tube, Luke braced himself over the turret hatch and reached down for Mara. Her strong hand wrapped around his forearm as he pulled her up and inside.

Mara removed her goggles and set down the survival pack, giving the tube her own appraisal. Luke was silent, wondering if he should apologize, or if that would only make things worse. They had to stay here for the night, which was still a ways off, but trying to make it to the ship without at least six hours of daylight would be a fatal mistake.

Clearly Mara didn’t need to be told.

With a sigh, she knelt on the floor, watching Luke as he took a sheet of durasteel from the scattered mess in the bottom of the turret and lay it over the hole to the trench below. Once that was done, Luke loosened his scarf, wincing at the feel of the dry, cracked skin as the chill crept under his collar. He mirrored Mara’s position, propping the glowrod against the curved shell of the container.

He managed a sheepish smile, ignoring the tightness in his face from the icy air, and indicated her survival pack with his chin. “Got more heating packs in there?”

Wordlessly, Mara tugged off one glove, unzipped the bag, and rummaged around. A minute later she pulled out four thermal patches, fanning them out to show him before replacing them into the pack. Each would be good for about five hours, so not too bad. But they would need them tomorrow for walking, and couldn’t waste them tonight. It would be about three hours to the shuttle, Luke estimated, from their current position.

Still silent, Mara pulled out a ration bar and tossed it the short distance over to Luke. Grateful, he opened it, tearing into the rubbery food and chewing slowly.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” he finally asked, swallowing. He had already resigned himself to a tirade, and couldn’t really say he didn’t deserve it.

Arching an eyebrow, Mara broke off the top of her own ration bar and turned it between her fingers thoughtfully. “What do you want me to say?” she asked, a small smile gracing her lips. “Happy Life Day?”

Surprised, Luke tried to figure out where the expected wrath had hidden.

“Happy Life Day,” he returned cautiously. “Sorry I got us into this mess. Looks like we’re going to be stuck here a while.”

Mara’s smile widened. “Pretty much what I expected,” she shrugged. “Tell me one time when something you planned went off without a hitch.”

Luke was mildly offended, but at the moment didn’t know if arguing was worth it. After all, he usually had a plan B. And definitely had more successes than failures.

She laughed, then winced, unstrapping her helmet. The cold had clearly dried out her skin as well, a band of red on the lower half of her cheeks. “You’re lucky I came.”

“I am,” Luke agreed without hesitation. He would still be alive, but doubted he would have had the control or presence of mind to keep from killing more wampas without Mara there. The fear and memory of his past trauma had been far more powerful than expected. His reactions and behavior, as a result, hadn’t been so undisciplined since he trained on Dagobah. He thought he’d been prepared but he’d been wrong. A foolish mistake.

Luke took a deep breath, trying to center himself as guilt, fear, and the past trauma threatened to unsettle.

Mara’s face turned serious. “What happened? Why didn’t you stop it from chasing you?” As she spoke she fished a nutrient bulb out of the bag, broke it open, and took a swig.

“I couldn’t focus,” Luke confessed, accepting the fortified drink when she passed it over. “I gave in to fear.” He sighed, leaning back on his hands. "Not my proudest moment.”

“I’m guessing not your worst, either,” she replied, moving from her position into a squat and pulling more survival gear from the pack.

“No,” he admitted, but didn’t elaborate, grateful for the pass.

Luke catalogued what came out of Mara’s bag—one emergency heatsheet, a roll of insulating tape, a rectangular towel, and an extra power cell for a blaster. 

“I lost my pack,” he offered needlessly.

“I noticed.”

Mara took the glowrod from the wall and moved around the turret cylinder with the tape, sealing gaps. She left one crack near the floor for air to pass, but otherwise did a thorough job of stopping the cold from entering. Feeling useless, Luke arranged the sparse, old insulation like a cushion. One benefit of the cold—nothing rotted.

Mara rolled a final piece of tape around the edge of the panel he’d slotted over the barrel opening. The light from the glowrod played the shadows on her face like an exotic instrument, the hues of its red artificial and strange and lovely against the natural dark ruby of her hair.

“That should do it,” she pronounced, replacing the tape in the sack.

Luke took off his helmet, appreciating the chill air drying some of the sweat against his scalp. There was a tension in the space, something he felt as surely as the cold. They were stuck, and they would have to sleep here. It was important to be well-rested for the trek back to Hanging Valley in the morning.

Without preamble, Mara began to unzip her coat, shrugging out of it and placing it carefully on the floor. Luke understood the need, but had avoided thinking about the reality. If they stayed in their snow clothes, they would sweat under the heatsheet, and the hike in the morning would be deadly, the moisture in their clothes turning to ice before they could reach the edge of the glacier.

Mara seemed to be contemplating something. She looked from her coat to him, a hint of what could be amusement in her eyes. Whatever it was, Luke was ready for anything to dissolve the thick air he felt clotting his lungs.

“C’mon Farmboy, give me yours. Should make a decent mattress.” 

Unzipping his coat, Luke laid it down, slightly overlapping with hers. He tried to ignore the surge of ice that pierced his bones. It was still freezing, insulated turret or no.

Mara kicked off her boots and shivered, then started unzipping her snowsuit. Clearing his throat, Luke tried not to think about that.

“Don’t blush, Skywalker,” Mara teased, pulling her arms free. “Just the top will be enough to keep the air circulating throughout.” To prove her point, she stopped disrobing with the suit hanging low off her hips, tugging the material away to prevent moisture from building up inside.

“I know,” he replied, wondering why he suddenly felt like a teenager on his first date. He’d had cold weather survival briefings same as all the pilots assigned to Hoth. He knew how to sleep beneath a heatsheet.

“So what are you waiting for?”

“We can’t both sleep at once,” he explained. “Too many ice creatures out there. I’ll take first watch.” Luke waved a hand down the front of his reinforced tunic. “Zipped up.”

“Very noble of you,” Mara replied, rolling her eyes. “But if you think I’m going to sleep without the benefit of the biggest space heater in the room to keep me warm,” she flung a hand to indicate him, “you’re gravely mistaken.”

She had a point. An irrefutable point. 

“Right,” was all he could manage, looking down with determination to undo the fasteners on his top. Unlike Mara, his cold weather suit wasn’t a one piece. The padded, heated outer shell came off first, joining the coats on the floor, then Luke pulled off the inner layer, teeth already starting to chatter.

“Hurry!” Mara looked as cold as he felt.

As soon as he had tossed it on the ground atop the other clothes, Mara folded the narrow emergency blanket in two and set it on the makeshift bed. She quickly slid between the halves and Luke followed, practically jumping under the heatsheet.

“Ow, Skywalker,” Mara groaned, “you left your utility belt on.”

Squirming under the blanket, Luke unclasped it and set it to the side. He made sure the lightsaber was in easy reach, and then moved closer to Mara. Not hard to do, as the blanket was narrow.

Her elbows were suddenly against his thermal undershirt, hands grasping at the blanket and pulling it up to her ears. Luke scooted lower. There wasn’t a huge height different between them, and so neck high on one was almost the same on the other. There was awkwardness as they adjusted. Mara seemed to be getting more annoyed the longer they fidgeted, until finally Luke tapped her shoulder beneath the sheet. It earned him a glare that burned enough to be seen in the darkness.

“May I?” he asked, hoping she’d already come to the same conclusion.

A curt nod, as if it were the least desirable of myriad solutions, but still a yes.

Luke took her in his arms, one wrapping around her back, the other across her chest as he tilted slightly, bringing her to lie half atop him. Mara looped her forearms under his triceps, then her topmost hand twisted closed the edges of the sheet at his throat.

He had no idea if she’d be able to sleep like this, but a warmth that was definitely not from the blanket suffused his entire body. Closing his eyes, Luke fought it back. As uncomfortable as being thrust into this scenario was, he couldn’t make it worse due to his own lack of control.

As if she were taking a sadistic pleasure in his discomfort, Mara pressed her body deeper into his, one leg pushing between his two, her thigh strong against him. Luke’s hands tightened into fists, but he said nothing.

“Something wrong?”

“Of course not,” he answered, glad she’d said something to break up the tension. Speaking felt like releasing steam from a pressure cooker. “Get some sleep.”

Mara rested her head on the juncture between his shoulder and collarbone. He could feel her smile.

“I’m probably not as good for snow-bound cuddles as Solo,” she murmured.

Luke moved to kiss the top of her head, then froze, mortified at his impulse.

“What?” Mara’s voice was tight, eyes lifting and searching. She had sensed something, even though he’d stopped himself in time.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry I’m not Solo?” she joked.

She was letting him off the hook, but Luke still felt he’d overstepped and tried to explain. 

“Sorry for a lot of things, but that’s not one of them,” he answered. “I’m sorry—”

“Stop apologizing, Skywalker,” Mara interrupted, putting her head back on his chest.

Luke bit his lip, reaching for calm that seemed to elude him just like when he’d run from the wampa. What was the matter with him today? Mara would hear his heart pounding and know he was anything but at ease. And he couldn’t find solace in meditation either; he had a responsibility to be completely alert in the event of an outside threat.

Mara’s weight settled more evenly against him, and Luke tried to relax. Her hair smelled sweet and complicated. Some faint fruity shampoo, a hint of sweat, and a more pure scent underneath—something Mara-esque that seemed spicy and dangerous: the combination he’d liked in his sleeping bag back on the shuttle. He wondered if Mara had actually been napping there, and that was why it had smelled so enticing. This line of thought, however, was not a good way to relax. Luke shifted, his neck stiff against the hard surface beneath. 

One thin arm twitched along his side. Luke didn’t know where she wanted to move it, but lifted slightly so she could pull free. Instead Mara slipped a hand behind his neck. Automatically, his arms tightened around her. His body was on autopilot. Shit.

Mara’s breath hitched slightly at the squeeze, and Luke allowed himself another mental curse. He couldn’t apologize or he’d annoy her, so he just focused on loosening his arms subtly, slowly.

“Luke.”

His first name, so rare on her lips, was whispered against his skin. That caused a brand new problem below his waist.

“Yeah.”

“I just thought of something.”

She sounded sleepy. Luke had never heard Mara sound sleepy, he realized with a start. He liked it.

“Oh?”

The head on his chest tilted minutely in assent, her hair brushing under his chin.

“This whole Life Day thing.” She exhaled, the sound excruciating in its softness. Luke fought to focus as she continued. “ _I_ never said I was sorry.” Her head lifted further, eyes focusing on him in the dim light. “To you.”

His confusion was dense but fleeting. Luke did understand, although her apology was the last thing he’d expected. After all, she had implied Life Day traditions were just for Wookiees…

The past, and Mara’s murderous intentions, were far behind them. Luke had trusted his impressions that she wouldn’t do it. Perhaps unreasonable, that certainty, but she could have delivered on the threat hundreds of times if she’d had the desire.

“No need.” Luke met her eyes, hoping she felt the sincerity in his reply. It seemed bewildering that she’d bring this up now. “I’m still here.”

“They say it’s the thought that counts,” Mara smiled, but the look was sad.

 _Then I have a lot of atoning to do for the thoughts I’m having right now,_ Luke mentally admitted, shaking his head. It was too warm. The narrow cylinder was still frigid, but everything around him felt about to burst into flames. And despite the accepted guidance about being able to sleep half-dressed in a heatsheet, their combined body temperatures were making him overheat.

“All right.” He forced himself to hold Mara’s gaze, sensing this was important to her. “I accept your apology.”

Her hand pat his sternum once, a gentle tap of thanks, it seemed.

“My legs are sweating,” she remarked.

“Mine too.”

They didn’t discuss it, the necessary action indisputable, and just shuffled out of the rest of their clothes. Luke waited until Mara had draped her snowsuit on top of the heatsheet, then slid his baggy snowpants the rest of the way off, rolling them into a ball and using it as a pillow. He supposed he should be glad the heatsheet was so effective, but it was designed to magnify one human’s body temperature. The two of them together had stretched its calidity calibrations.

Now, clad only in her basics, Mara resettled back against his bare chest without a word.

The night was painfully quiet, with only the whoosh of the frosty wind to break up the silence. Periodically sleet would rattle the metal casing, then rapidly taper off.

Luke was hyperconscious of his breathing and the difference in temperature between his forehead and his chest, where Mara’s head rested. Her weight was solid and sweet, like a promise, he thought, the inane poetry of the concept making it no less true. Everywhere part of her touched him was beyond sensitive. Luke struggled to keep his respiration even, knowing the exercise was futile even as he told himself Master Yoda’s old mantra “do or do not, there is no try.” The ancient Jedi, Luke was certain, had never imagined quite this scenario when issuing that particular piece of advice.

“What’s so funny?”

Mara’s voice was low, rough, with just the slightest hint of annoyance. The combination was almost enough to ruin all the hard work Luke had been doing to regain control of his physical response to her.

“Huh?”

It was a reflexive answer, born of embarrassment at letting his shields leak out even a hint of what was going through his mind at the moment. He’d probably woken her just as she was drifting off.

Before repeating her question, Mara stiffened, shifting position again. Keeping her hands tightly grasping the top of the sheet to trap the heat, she smoothly glided to rest entirely atop Luke, hips far too well-aligned with his—

“What’s. So. Funny.” She sounded calm enough, but Luke felt a warning in the darkness. Mara’s green eyes sparkled black in the pitch of their makeshift shelter, and were far too distracting.

“Well…” Luke let his head fall back, afraid of what meeting that glittering gaze would do to him. “This whole thing, I guess?” He gave a little shrug, knowing she would feel him do it. “The mess you were certain I would get us into, here we are.”

“I should have made you a bet back on Yavin IV,” Mara said, and Luke welcomed the humor he heard in her voice.

“I only take bets I know I’ll win,” Luke grinned up at the ceiling.

“Smarter than you look, Skywalker,” she answered, then paused a moment before continuing, her voice serious. “But that wasn’t what you were thinking about.”

Luke sighed, feeling Mara’s body rise and fall against his, and decided there was no shame in telling her the truth. It was already clear he wasn’t going to be able to control his reactions the entire night, and the normal solution, simple distance, was not an option.

“Actually, I was trying to use the Force to keep from…” Shavit, he couldn’t really sugarcoat it, and Mara was no fool. “...From reacting. To the situation. You know… offending you. And that,” he rushed on to get beyond those words, this confession, “that made me think about how my old Master would have never imagined this particular application of Jedi calming techniques.”

Without realizing it, Luke had tensed, his muscles contracted and now everything was aching. He squeezed his eyes shut, not even sure what response he hoped Mara would offer. Better to tease him, laugh it off? Or take it seriously, pity him? Or, the worst alternative, get angry and insulted.

“‘Reacting?’” she quoted. Mara’s voice sounded far too restrained. Luke braced himself for impending mockery or condemnation that didn’t come. 

“Probably more offensive if you _didn’t_ react, Skywalker.”

Then, to his surprise, she just lay back down, this time with her head in the center of his chest. Luke opened his mouth, searching for a rejoinder, something appropriately witty, and nothing came. Was it an invitation? An absolution? He decided it was neither, and just returned his gaze to the curved side of the cylinder that was protecting them from the night air.

It seemed like hours before Mara’s breathing settled into a rhythm. Her breath now cycled warm and damp against his skin. The small spot of wet was cold during her inhales, heated by her exhales. The regularity, despite the thermal discomfort, brought Luke more tranquility than the Force had earlier. Finally he felt like he could relax, although his arms stubbornly refused to slacken, his hands unwilling to leave her back. But the more Luke adjusted to the inadvertent intimacy, the more worried he got. 

This felt _too_ natural, too comfortable now. He wanted to stay here, feel the welcome weight of Mara in his arms, in his bed. He wanted to wake her with a kiss and warm her with his lips as well as his hands. Unproductive thinking. It was wrong, Luke tried to tell himself, even as all his senses assured him this was the absolute opposite of wrong. It was _perfect_ , destined, profound, all that nerf tripe. Every impossible sentiment in a sparkle-bop song or in a holoromance were clearly, painfully true. Luke was abruptly certain he was in love with Mara Jade, and of course she would never believe him, not while they were lying almost naked in the middle of an ice storm together.

He had unerringly bad timing.

“Skywalker?”

Shavit. Luke pressed his lips together tightly, cataloging the location and appropriateness in placement of each of his appendages, then answered.

“Yes.”

“Time to switch?” she asked.

Truth be told, he had no idea how long he’d been lying there, the sound of his own heartbeat and the steady movement of her lungs against him having been more meditative than expected. At least until he started thinking about sleeping with her every night and waking up with her every morning...

“Skywalker?” Mara pushed up, one elbow slightly digging into his side for a second as she did. He wasn’t sure it was entirely accidental.

“I don’t know,” he confessed. “Lemme check the chrono.”

“Nevermind.” Rising slightly, Mara pulled one arm from behind his neck. She had a flimsy-thin wrist chrono on her forearm. He hadn’t even noticed. Luke fought to hold still as her center of gravity shifted. When Mara’s chest lifted from his, her hips pushed his harder into the coats beneath the heatsheet.

Luke futilely tried to draw away, deeper, but of course there was nowhere to go. His body responded like a coiled spring that had been set free, and he groaned, wondering what, if anything, he should say to acknowledge the fact.

Mara’s eyes darted from her chrono to his utility belt resting alongside the heatsheet, clearly confirming it wasn’t responsible for whatever was digging into her hip. Luke closed his eyes, head falling back. This was beyond awkward. But when Mara didn’t pull back or say anything, he started to sit, trying to keep the blanket in place.

“Lemme get up,” Luke said firmly, starting to wriggle beneath Mara as a signal for her to let him exit the heatsheet cocoon they had made.

That earned him a small chuckle.

“I’d say you already are.”

The joke, however mortifying the circumstances, helped. The chagrin he’d been feeling began to dissipate. 

“I explained before.” His tone hovered between defensive and desperate.

“And I said I wasn’t offended.”

An inexplicable flash of annoyance hit Luke. What did she expect, then? Was this some kind of power trip? He needed to leave, to get dressed and just settle in the far end of the tube until it was time to depart.

“So what are you suggesting?” Luke challenged her, fighting to stay calm. “That I stay here...like this...all night?”

Her shoulders lifted and fell in a slow shrug.

“You can’t _go_ anywhere else. You’ll freeze outside the heatsheet, and you’re useless to us both if you don’t get any rest.”

She was right, but that didn’t help the almost painful proof between his legs that he wasn’t going to get any rest regardless.

“Mara…”

“Skywalker.” She sighed, a small shake of her head. They were so close. Yet somehow now the proximity was far more enticing, far more obvious than before. Luke took a deep breath, as Mara’s eyes studied his face. “...Luke,” she amended, her tone an odd mix of practical and soft.

“I know,” he said, surprised at how calm he suddenly felt. Maybe the Force would get him past this. “You’re right...just…” His eyes flicked from hers down to indicate his point. “It’s not voluntary. Give me a minute.”

Something changed in the green eyes before him, although Luke wasn’t sure exactly what. They darkened, some of the good humor disappearing, then Mara’s jaw tightened as if she were bracing herself for something unpleasant.

“What?” Luke’s arms went limp, sensing an error that he didn’t understand—something that went beyond biological impulses that refused to accept external circumstances. “What did I say?”

“Nothing.” Pulling back slightly, one of the edges of the heatsheet in her hands slipped. A rush of cold air snuck beneath. Luke expected it to chill the hot blood pumping in his veins, but instead his body seemed to find it an excuse to press closer, a reflexive tightening once more around her. His heel angled over her ankle, spreading Mara’s leg wider under his.

Both of them shivered, and Mara cursed, yanking the sheet tighter around them. Luke felt her shields slip, just for a moment, and the turbulence of emotion made him suck in a breath. Some of Mara’s feelings were as expected: exasperation, annoyance, anxiety...but there was also an unmistakable twinge of disappointment. It baffled him, but before he could examine it, her shields were up once more. The residual gloom of sentiment lingered.

Disappointment. In him? In his lack of control? In herself, for coming along on this debacle? He didn’t like the glimpse, feeling as if he’d violated her somehow. Sometimes it was better not to feel the Force, he thought, not for the first time.

“Don’t say anything.” The voice came in the darkness, as icy as the air outside. She knew he’d noticed her lapse, it was clear. “Just sleep. I’ll keep watch till dawn.”

“I can’t,” he said, realizing how very true that was as the words left his lips. Unthinking, Luke raised a hand, smoothing Mara’s hair. She stared at him, suspicion or something else narrowing her eyes.

His hand froze, and Luke once more cursed his impulse. It had felt natural, right. And for some reason, he thought Mara didn’t mind, maybe even wanted him to… 

With a flash of insight, the sense of disappointment made sense. Mara had said she wasn’t offended by his obvious attraction to her. Was she wanting something more? Luke felt his pulse respond to the potential, just as he had been getting himself under control.

Mara sucked in a breath, then exhaled slowly beneath his nose. Luke felt another ridiculous urge to inhale her respiration, to take her breath into his lungs as if that would somehow form the basis of a physical communion. A foundation for something more, sharing breath, heat, life.

“I want to kiss you,” he said, the truth leaping from his lips before he could consider the wisdom or consequences. His hands flattened against her back, hope infused throughout his entire body.

“Don’t,” came the exceeding even reply. 

Now it was Luke’s turn to feel disappointment, colder than the Hoth air invading his blood. Mara’s lips were so close to his it was like a bad joke—the tiniest of movements, the smallest of distances kept their mouths apart. It was beyond a tease, it was torture. 

“You think it’s a bad idea.” The statement had started like a whisper, the sound too intimate. Luke adjusted mid-phrase, finishing in a normal tone, so ‘bad idea’ was emphasized through volume. He sounded like a poorly modulated droid, and didn’t even notice, too consumed with Mara’s reaction.

She tilted her head to the left, removing the alignment of lips that had been so blatant and inviting.

“I didn’t say that,” Mara replied, and those four words stoked his blood again, diluting the chill of disappointment with the heat of promise. “But I took some time to consider the options while you’ve been angsting about your ‘condition,’ Farmboy.”

Her humor helped once again, and Luke was grateful for it, but the most important word in that sentence bore clarification.

“Options?”

She nodded, hair brushing against his neck. He loved her hair, how it smelled, how it felt, how it looked. Luke struggled to focus. This was important.

“There are two...possibilities.” A brief smile as she continued. “One, we surrender to the urge to kriff our brains out.”

We? She’d said ‘we’. Luke kept his jaw dropping with effort, wanting to stop her before she went on. There was no need to continue. She had just admitted she wanted him, too. His body couldn’t care less about a second possibility, everything clearly ready to accommodate this suggestion. Mara didn’t react, although there was zero percent chance she hadn’t noticed.

“Two, we recognize this urge is likely the result of … situational catalysts, and ignore it.”

“Catalysts?” Luke echoed her words again. He was starting to sound like a TribBot, but his brain clearly wasn’t getting enough blood at the moment.

“Sure.” Mara’s voice was still maddeningly calm. “Necessary proximity due to the elements, that’s one of them. This is mandatory snuggling, in case you hadn’t noticed.” She shifted her hips more to the side, but didn’t leave her position atop him. “Almost getting killed by wampas, that’s another.”

He was listening, but Luke didn’t follow her second point. Trying to imitate the same clinical tone as his bedpartner, he cleared his throat.

“Wampa rage is a turn on?”

Mara tutted like he was a poor student at the Academy who’d forgotten the most basic lightsaber forms.

“Everyone knows sex is a common response to confronting death. It’s a biological coping mechanism, as much as psychological defense.”

He hadn’t thought of it that way, but it was unquestionably true. After a battle, the Rogue barracks had often rivaled a Zeltron pleasure den.

“Point.” Luke wasn’t sure what else to say. Speech wasn’t exactly coming easy, everything felt divided from within. His body was competing with his brain for control and it was taking all his strength to keep the latter from losing. “So did you decide which option you prefer?”

Mara’s hands moved to rest on his shoulders, her fingers loosely curling along the muscle. The touch was at once burning and soothing. The tension he felt throughout his limbs started a slow unwind. She was using the Force, he thought, but unconsciously. He was positive, the action surprising, pleasing, and disconcerting all at once.

“At first, I decided they weren’t mutually exclusive,” she admitted, shocking the hell out of him. “But…” her fingers rubbed slightly against his bare skin, “I think we should consider option two.”

Of course he knew that was where they were headed, the responsible thing, but Luke nonetheless felt his heart sink in his chest.

“Luke.” Her voice was gentle, like when she’d apologized earlier. “I don’t want a situational catalyst to be the reason I’m wanted. Neither do you.”

She was right, and Luke _knew_ she was right. A million arguments came into his mind, most of them valid, some of them preposterous. He had always wanted her, that was the most convincing one. It had just taken too long to figure it out, to want to act upon it. If that was what these ‘catalysts’ had accomplished, they should be thanking the Force for the situation, not using it as an excuse to repress their feelings. 

As a reason, a justification, it was compelling. But it couldn’t be trusted, not in their current circumstances. And as much as that sucked, Luke understood.

“Option two then.”

Even as the words left his lips, Luke was sliding his hands up her ribs, feeling her warmth and softness, closer than he’d dared to imagine them. Mara’s fingers also moved, travelling up his neck, threading into his hair, and then they were kissing.

Luke couldn’t have explained how it happened, or who initiated it, but Mara’s perfect mouth was parting for him, her tongue tasting his. They breathed into the kiss, as Luke had wanted to do, sharing oxygen, life, heat. He could feel the Force that was Mara like a brilliant, invisible light, suffusing him, scorching a path from his mouth to his belly and lower. She tasted like nothing he could have described, just sustaining, vibrant, and impossibly, unexpectedly tender. 

The heatsheet dipped, another blast of cold air interrupting the kiss as both scrambled to keep it from opening. Luke snatched it first, quickly pulling the edges back to chin height.

“That didn’t feel like option two,” Mara commented. She didn’t sound upset, though.

As far as Luke was concerned, there was nothing to hide anymore. He wouldn’t push—he wanted her to be as certain of his desire as he was, and it was clear that this wasn’t the place for it.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time. I’m still going to want to do it when we’re out of here.”

Mara snorted, a familiar sound that somehow conveyed doubt, amusement, and disapproval all at once. “I bet you’ll claim snow madness and forget this ever happened, Skywalker.”

Luke pressed his arms tighter around her, enjoying the feeling of Mara surrendering to his embrace. She settled back onto his sternum, her legs more completely tangled in his. Everything was warm. He was probably glowing so much he could light up the dark.

“I’ll take that bet,” Luke murmured, closing his eyes.

Mara laughed. “Thought you only made bets you knew you’d win.”

“Exactly,” he answered, smiling into the darkness. He was exhausted, and finally felt that he could sleep. “Good night Mara,” he mumbled, already feeling that unsettling vertigo that meant imminent unconsciousness. He didn’t resist—happiness and lethargy unfailingly made for sweet dreams.

“Good night Luke,” he heard Mara whisper. “Happy Life Day."


End file.
